


Baby, You're A Mess (But That's Just Fine To Me)

by ProneToRelapse



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Black Tie Event, Established Relationship, Horny Connor, Horny HANK!!, Humor, M/M, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Slow Dancing, Smut, soft boys in love, these losers are so cute let me die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 08:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15115241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProneToRelapse/pseuds/ProneToRelapse
Summary: Markus hosts a fundraiser sponsored by the DPD to raise money for android hospitals in the wake of CyberLife's downfall. Hank doesn't do black tie. Hedoesdo Connor in supply closets.





	Baby, You're A Mess (But That's Just Fine To Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nudelherz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nudelherz/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [老混蛋与小甜心 A translation of Baby You're A Mess by ProneToRelapse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15700929) by [sherrystoneage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherrystoneage/pseuds/sherrystoneage)



> what is UP party people!!!! This fic is a gift for Nudelherz bc their comments are frickin essays and i needed a better way to say thank u than just askdjfhskjdf. SO HERE IT IS.

“I’m not going.”

“Hank.”

“Nope.”

“ _Hank.”_

_“_ I said no.”

“ _Lieutenant_ _.”_

Hank covers his ears, singing loudly and out of tune to block out the sound of Connor’s voice. Connor doesn’t relent and advances, following Hank around the kitchen as he tries to get away. 

“I’m not going and you can’t make me!” Hank knocks over a chair to block Connor’s path, making a show of screwing his eyes closed. “Your puppy dog eyes can’t sway me if I can’t see them! I am the man of this house and my decision is final!”

“ _Hank,”_ Connor snaps, stepping over the chair. “I’m not asking. I’m  _telling_  you we’re going!”

“La la la, can’t hear you! La la la—  _Fuck!”_

Hank plus closed eyes plus excitable Saint Bernard equals immense amusement for one deviant RK800 android. 

“Will you listen to me now?” Connor asks, leaning over Hank who is now sprawled out on the floor. “Or do you want to trip over Sumo a couple more times?”

“Fuck you,” Hank groans, sitting up. “I  _said_  I’m not going.”

Connor kneels down beside him. He’s a trained negotiator. He’s talked down dozens of frightened, angry and confused people, both human and android. He can handle one stubborn police Lieutenant. 

“Hank…” Connor says softly, opening his eyes wide and jutting his lower lip forward into a pout. He knows from experience that Hank can not resist this face. “This gala means a lot to me. Markus has done so much for my people and the fact that the DPD are sponsoring it is a huge step forward for the relationship between our species. I don’t want to go without you. I… I want you by my side, Hank.”

“Oh, fuck  _you,”_ Hank says again, eyes narrowed. “You manipulative little-“

“Come with me and I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue.”

Hank’s cheeks flare a wonderful shade of crimson. “I’m not wearing a tie!” He insists, glaring at Connor’s incredibly smug face. 

—

“It’s black tie, Hank.”

“I heard you the first time.”

Connor eyes Hank’s outfit shrewdly. He has two options, it seems. 

Option one: force Hank into the tuxedo he got for him and risk Hank not coming and throwing a tantrum for the next week. 

Option two: let Hank wear what he wants and hope for the best. 

Connor’s has had enough drama in his relatively short life. He chooses the easy path. 

“Fine,” Connor says, shrugging. “But I hope you know there will be photographers there.”

“I hope  _you_ know how much I’m looking forward to the open bar.”

Connor pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s a purely human gesture that Hank seems adept at triggering. “At  _least_  wear the jacket.”

“I’ll wear the damn jacket. But look me in the eye and tell me this isn’t the best shirt you’ve ever seen.”

The shirt is… Certainly unique. Blue with an honest to god banana pattern. It’s very Hank. He’d spotted it a few weeks ago while shopping and has been looking for an excuse to wear it since. 

“It’s very you,” Connor concedes. “Colourful. However-“

“If I go, the shirt comes with me.”

“And you say  _I’m_  difficult,” Connor mutters. “Fine, wear the shirt. I don’t know why I bother.”

“You’ll learn to stop arguing with me eventually,” Hank tells him. “It’s always easier to just let me do my thing.”

Both of them know that’s not going to happen. 

—

When Markus had first pitched the fundraiser idea to Connor, he’d been skeptical. 

Now, looking around at all the guests, human and android alike, Connor can see why Markus had pushed so hard to make it happen. 

_“We’ll be promoting unity and cohesion,”_ Markus had said.  _“_ _A gathering for all of us to come together to do something worthwhile.”_

His goal was to raise funds for an android-centric hospital, a place for repairs and replacement parts away from CyberLife’s insidious influence. He’d garnered support by adding that it would open up employment opportunities for both androids and humans, creating a system with fair distribution between the species. 

When he’d asked Connor to put the idea of a sponsorship to the DPD, Connor he’d been almost certain the suggestion would be shot down. 

He’s very glad to have been wrong. 

He sees a number of his coworkers milling around, mingling and making small talk. There’s no tension or animosity, just humans and androids together, enjoying a relaxing evening of music and food and drink

Well, the humans are enjoying the food and drink, at least. 

“This,” Hank mutters, “is Hell. Can we go yet?”

“It’s been five minutes, Hank. We haven’t even spoken to anyone.”

“That’s the plan. Where’s the bar?”

“Oh no,” Connor says, looping his arm tightly round Hank’s. “First we greet the host.  _Then_  you can have a drink.”

“ _A_  drink? Singular? Connor, I thought you loved me.”

“I do,” Connor says, scanning the crowd – literally – for a sign of Markus. “Which is why I’m not wearing any underwear and I know exactly where the supply closet is should the need for privacy arise.”

“I hate you,” Hank says weakly. His elevated heart rate says otherwise. 

Connor: One, Hank: Zero. 

Finally Connor catches a glimpse of Markus and hauls Hank through the crowd to reach him. He’s flanked by Simon and Josh, looking very dignified in their tuxedos. North stands a little way behind them, cutting a devastating figure in her dress, backless, with a slit up to mid thigh. She does not look happy. 

“Hello, Markus,” Connor says as they get close. “I’m so glad the turnout was as good as you expected.”

“Connor!” Markus beams. “And Lieutenant Anderson. I’m so happy you made it.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Connor tells him, subtly elbowing Hank when he opens his mouth to disagree. 

“Connor,” North says in greeting, inclining her head. She offers Hank a respectful nod. “Hank.” While she’s still not fully on board with the peace, Hank seems to be the only human she actively tolerates. Connor would think it was her attempt to accept their relationship, but Hank’s prickly demeanour had won her over all on its own. 

“North,” Hank says. “You look like you could kill a man.”

“Thank you,” North says, pleased. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“Oh, you mean my new shirt? Good, isn’t it?”

North raises her eyebrows, amused. “Something like that.”

Hank grins at her. “So where’s the knife hidden, then?”

“Strapped to my left thigh.”

“ _North_ ,” Markus says, exasperated. “Play nice.”

“Yeah,  _that’s_  gonna happen,” Josh says. North glares at him. 

“Enjoy your evening, gentlemen,” Markus says, stepping between the bickering androids. “Seems I have to mediate.”

“We’ll catch up with you later,” Connor promises and leads Hank towards the bar. 

“They’re alright,” Hank says. “I’ve never met anyone as patient as android-Jesus back there. Haven’t the faintest fucking clue how he does it. One sassy android is enough for me. Don’t know how he handles three of them.” 

“I’m not  _sassy_ ,” Connor says defensively. “And if I  _am_  it’s entirely your fault.”

“You’re just proving my point, Con.”

Connor briefly considers tripping him over. The sulking that would inevitably follow dissuades him. 

“Alright,” Connor says. “Free bar, I know that’s what you’re here for. Just try to moderate yourself, please. This night is very important for the cohesion—“

“Hey,” Hank interrupts, catching hold of Connor’s arm. “I know how important this is to you. I’m not gonna do anything to ruin it. But I’m surrounded by people dressed up to the nines with a really hot guy on my arm. I’ve gotta be at least a little bit drunk to ignore what people are probably thinking when they look at us.”

Hank has come a long way in the past few months. He’s trying, he really is, but his skewed self-confidence makes Connor so sad. 

“I promise you, Hank,” Connor says firmly. “The only thing anyone here is thinking about is themselves.  _I,_ however, am thinking about how much I’d like to get you out of that shirt—“

Hank snorts. “I fuckin’  _knew_  it was gonna bother you—“

“—And into your pants.”

That shuts him up. 

Connor: Two. Hank: Zero. 

In a show of mercy Connor orders Hank a drink, whisky neat, and pats his arm. Hank downs the whole thing and puts the glass down with a little more force than necessary. Connor expected as much. 

“So, uh… Supply closet?”

Connor smiles pleasantly. “Yes, down the far end of the corridor, last door on the left. I noticed it when Markus was choosing a venue.”

“Ah. Reckon we could…?”

“All in good time, Lieutenant.”

Hank sulks for the next hour. 

—

Markus takes the stage just after nine o’clock. The human guests are all pleasantly buzzed and a hush descends as he takes his place and everyone takes their seats.

“I want to start by thanking you all for coming,” Markus says, smiling happily. “Your support for our cause is greatly appreciated, and know we wouldn’t be able to do this without you.

“I want to announce that we’ve exceeded our fundraising target by fifteen thousand dollars, thanks to the sponsorship of the Detroit Police Department, and the generous donations of individuals.” 

“Shit, did we donate?” Hank whispers, leaning towards Connor. 

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Hank sighs in relief and leans back in his chair. “Oh, Jeffery is here. I didn’t even see him. God, he looks uncomfortable.”

Connor follows Hank’s gaze and sees their Captain sat at a table across the room, sandwiched between his wife and, unfortunately, Detective Reed. 

“Markus invited  _Reed_?!” Hank hisses. “Of all people?”

“Not personally. It was an open invitation to the DPD. I assume Captain Fowler made him attend. You and I were the only officers to receive a VIP invitation.”

“Lucky us,” Hank mutters. Connor shushes him. 

The rest of Markus’ speech is much of the same, gratitude and positivity and the amount of applause he receives from the guests is reassuring. Once he steps down from the stage the music starts up again, and the majority of the guests not too drunk to stand move towards the dance floor. Connor watches the couples pair off to dance with an unfamiliar twinge of longing. 

Hank’s outstretched hand moves into his line of sight. 

“Come on,” Hank says, pointedly not looking Connor in the eye. “I know that look. I know I’ve been a shit this evening, let’s go.”

“Go where?” Connor asks, slowly taking Hank’s hand. 

“Dance with me,” Hank says, cheeks heating. “I know you want to.”

Connor’s chest flutters as Hank pulls him upright, leading him towards the dance floor. For Hank to do this because he knows it’s what Connor wants, in spite of his own misgivings… He’s touched. 

He really does love this grumpy old man. 

“I’m leading,” Hank mutters so Connor has to fight back a smile. 

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Connor says. “Do you actually know how to dance?”

“…Fuck, fine,  _you_  lead.”

Connor grins and slips an arm round Hank’s waist and clasps his right hand in his left. Hank glares at Connor’s lapel as he slips his free hand up to rest on his shoulder. 

“We don’t have to do this,” Connor tells him. 

“I want to,” Hank mumbles. The shade of red on his cheeks darkens. “Don’t let me think about it too much. I’m tryin’ to be romantic here.”

“It’s working,” Connor says, pecking his cheek softly. “Consider me romanced.”

“Asshole,” Hank mutters, but his mouth quirks up into a small smile despite his words and Connor leads them slowly round the dance floor as the soft music starts up again. 

“Christ,” Hank laughs after a long moment. “Dancing at a black tie gala with my android boyfriend. Who’d‘ve ever thought?”

“I certainly never thought I’d be so lucky,” Connor admits. 

“It is  _literally_  impossible for my face to go any redder, Con.”

“I know, but I do like to try.”

Time fades away as they move slowly together, music a gentle wave swirling around them as they revolve lost in their own little world. It’s perfect and pure and Connor wonders how he ever came to be here, in the arms of this man whom he was never supposed to be capable of loving. 

_You look so happy._

The thought drifts into Connor’s head, subtle but obtrusive enough to make itself heard. Markus. He’s messaging Connor from somewhere in the hall, but Connor can’t bring himself to break the spell around him and Hank long enough to look for him. His LED whirs as he replies. 

_I am. Thank you for opening my eyes._

_You broke through your programming. You just needed a helping hand._

Connor smiles, resting his head on Hank’s shoulder. They’ve slowed until they’re just swaying in place, arms around each other, no longer dancing as much as just embracing in an approximation of it. His synthetic heart feels full enough to burst. 

Until. “…Hank.”

“Mm?”

“Your hands are on my backside.”

“Can you blame me? Have I told you how fuckin’ good you look in that tux?”

Connor grins. “You know, I don’t think you have.”

“Then can I show you?”

Slowly Connor unwinds his arms from round Hank’s waist, sliding his palms down his arms until he can take hold of Hank’s hand and lead him off of the dance floor. He holds one finger up to his lips in a shh gesture, tugging Hank along in a preconstructed route that will let them slip out unnoticed. 

Connor navigates the corridors like he knows them by heart, speeding up onto a brisk half-jog until they reach the closet. He opens the door and quickly stuffs Hank inside, ignoring the indignant yelp the Lieutenant gives in response as he closes the door behind them. 

“Jesus, Con, don’t shove me around, I’m too old for shit like that.”

“So you’re too old to fuck me in a supply closet then?” Connor asks, loosening his bow tie. 

“Hold on, don’t put words in my mouth.”

Connor grins and yanks Hank closer by his jacket front. “That’s not what I’m interested in putting in your mouth,” he says and drags Hank into a kiss. 

It’s hot and rough and Connor can’t get enough of it. Hank’s hands drag his shirt up out of his trousers, warm palms sliding against his back, over his ribs, pushing him up against the door as Connor fumbles to get Hank’s jacket off and his shirt open. 

Outside the door, not ten feet away, the gala is still in full swing. Approaching footsteps send a shiver of something too delicious to be panic down Connor’s spine, as Hank drags his lips along Connor’s neck, biting at every inch of skin he can reach. 

“We have— approximately ten minutes before someone comes looking for us,” Connor manages, breath catching as Hank’s teeth tug at his earlobe. “And a sixty-point-eight-three percent chance of being discovered. I suggest we move fast.”

“I love it when you talk statistics to me.” Hank sucks softly at the skin of Connor’s throat, bringing up light blue thirium bruises. Hank has an absolute fascination with littering Connor’s neck and collarbones with lovebites even though they fade after a few minutes. Connor definitely isn’t complaining. 

“H-Hank,” Connor moans softly as teeth scrape over the sensitive skin just below his ear. “Hurry up and get in me.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Hank hisses. “How do you want— What—“

He swallows loudly as Connor pushes him back and deftly unfastens his trousers to shove them down his hips, turning to face the wall and brace his arms against it. He bends to stick his backside out, looking over his shoulder at Hank with heavy-lidded eyes. 

“Like this,” Connor says breathlessly. “Fuck me like this.”

Hank’s hands are on him instantly, palming at his ass, spreading his cheeks, swiping his fingers over Connor’s already slick hole. The contact pulls a soft whimper out of Connor’s throat, but he fights it back to pant out an admonition.

“Don’t tease me, we don’t have time,” Connor grits out. “Just fuck me,  _please._ ”

“How can I say no to that?” Hank’s belt buckle clicks loudly as he unfastens it and Connor bites his lip in anticipation, want rolling hot through his not-stomach. 

Then Hank’s palm is flat against his back and the tip of his cock nudges against Connor’s hole as he lines up and pushes in, drawing a shaky moan out of the android’s throat. 

“You need to keep quiet,” Hank says, voice strained. 

“I’ll try,” Connor gasps, hands fisting against the wall. 

Hank rolls his hips slowly, cock pushing deep. Connor whines, jaw clenched to keep as quiet as possible, which is nearly impossible with the way Hank’s cock is dragging along his inner walls, driving him wild. 

“ _H-Hank—“_  Connor moans, back arching as he tries to rock his hips back, desperate for friction. “Harder.  _Please._ ”

Hank obeys – Connor  _loves_  him – and rolls his hips hard, hitting deeper, harder, nudging the bundle of wires inside him that sets sparks jittering across his skin and pleasure surging through his gut. His own cock is hard and leaking with every thrust, hole clenching down around Hank’s dick as he thrusts hard enough to force the unneeded breath out of Connor’s lungs. 

“ _Haaank_ _,”_ Connor whines. “I-I’m—“

“ _Connor_ ,” Hank groans, hips stuttering. “Fuck, I’ve got you,  _fuck_ , come on, come for me.” He slides a hand round to grasp Connor’s cock, thumb swiping over the tip and oh god, it’s too much, too good, Connor can’t  _think_  he can only feel and arch and moan, lost to sensation as Hank coaxes him closer and closer to the edge. 

Release hits him like a tidal wave, sweeping through his entire body right down to every line of his code and whiting out his vision with static. His LED spins a frantic red, a crimson glow in the dark. Hank follows after a few more juddering thrusts, panting hard as he fills Connor up. 

They stay like that for longer than is probably safe, but Connor can’t bear to move until Hank softens enough to slip out of him, and the hot rush of come threatens to spill down his thighs. He’s already a mess, that would just make things worse. 

“Fuck,” Hank croaks, stumbling back to try and make himself presentable. “I’m too fuckin’ old for this shit.”

Connor hums idly, leaning heavily against the wall. His legs won’t stop shaking and he loves it. 

“Let’s go home,” Connor slurs instead, wondering if this is how humans feel when intoxicated. His head is fuzzy and thoughts drift hazily through his head but he’s too dazed to focus. 

“Oh, shit, I broke you,” Hank laughs, helping Connor stand. “I think I need to get you home. You can’t be seen looking like this. You said there were photographers here!”

“What do I look like?” Connor grins at Hank as he helps straighten his clothes out. 

“Like you were just fucked stupid in a supply closet, Connor, fuck.” He stuffs Connor’s bow tie in his jacket pocket. “That’s the best I can do.” He reaches up to try and smooth Connor’s hair presentable again. “Fuck, it’ll have to do. Think you can get us out of here without drawing attention?”

“Nope,” Connor says. “I’m almost certain you short-circuited me.”

“Right, well that doesn’t  _help_ , does it?”

_I can help._

Connor blinks, LED whirring yellow. 

_North?_

_Yeah. I’m keeping people away from the corridor with a wet floor sign. There’s a fire exit down the hall to your left. I’ll tell Markus you took Hank home._

_Thank you._

_Don’t mention it. Ever._

**Author's Note:**

> markus: where did hank and connor get to? i wanted connor to give a speech  
> north, traumatised: they fucked in the supply closet and went home  
> markus: what?  
> north: WHO'RE HANK AND CONNOR I'VE NEVER HEARD OF THEM IN MY L I F E


End file.
